The Ties That Bind
by AndromedaeStarStorm69
Summary: I wish I could explain all of this in a paragraph. I can't, though. Maybe before I could've, when I was just an unaware, oblivious sixteen-year-old kid. But that paragraph turned into a chapter and that chapter became a book. Come along for the ride. Unfortunately, there's no seatbelts. Cowritten with SlytherinHeiress23. Obviously I don't own Supernatural.
1. Prologue: Capsize

_Sam Winchester_

"Sam. _Sam_. SAMMY!"

My eyes snapped open. Damn it, had I fallen asleep again? Sleep really seemed to be evading me at the moment. Dean was waving a newspaper in my face. "Good time to come to Oregon, huh?" His voice was triumphant as he tapped the headline with his finger. "Looks like we got a job."

My eyes focused, reading the bold print. ' **FREAK ACCIDENT IN LOCAL PARK.'**

 _In what was an ordinary game of basketball, a shocking turn of events transpired yesterday that resulted in the death of a young woman, Darcy Matthews._

 _A harmless match became a bloodbath when another girl, Ayla Jennings, threw the ball, hitting Miss Matthews in the stomach forcefully enough that her internal organs ruptured. She was pronounced dead on arrival at the Oregon State Hospital. When questioned, both the Chief of Police and Miss Jennings' mother, DA Renée Jennings, stated that she had been taken into custody and was unavailable for comment._

I looked up. "What are you thinking? Possession?"

"I don't know. Whatever it is, it was strong enough to kill a girl with a basketball. I say we go check it out." We were half an hour's drive away from Portland. Dean picked up the keys. "Pack your crap. We're going to the City of Roses."

 _Ayla Jennings_

"Mom, please talk to me." She wouldn't even look at me. Not a glance. She was far away, thinking, worrying, the cigarette in her mouth a burning speck in the half-light. "Mom. Please."

"How the hell are we going to get you out of this, Ayla?" she whispered. I swallowed.

"I just threw it-"

"And you killed a girl! You're lucky they're letting you stay here until the psych evaluation, house arrest or not!" Her hazel eyes filled with tears. "I tried to get your case, but it's a conflict of interest. It's not like I could explain what happened anyway. This just doesn't happen. It can't happen."

The silence in our little kitchen hung as heavy as a bucket of rocks. I pulled my knees up to my chest, the chair uncomfortably hard, and let out a sigh. Fuck, how was _I_ supposed to explain all this, let alone my mother? I didn't have a clue what the hell was going on with me. All I knew was that after what happened, I was going to need long and intensive therapy. God, I could see it in my head…the frenzied shouts and squeals around me, telling me to throw the ball. What could I do but throw it? And then…it hitting Darcy Matthews in the stomach. Her mouth fountaining blood. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image just wouldn't go away. It was as if it was tattooed behind my eyelids. Darcy was nice. Kind. Never had a bad thing to say about anybody. And I'd killed her. Tears formed in my eyes. "Don't you think I know that?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "I'm trying to figure it out myself, Mom."

She blew out a cloud of smoke, her eyes distant again. "I know, baby. I know."

 _ **TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB**_

Sleep and I weren't close friends, for obvious reasons. I'd never really been the best of sleepers anyway, but now I could maybe expect one restless, fitful hour.

Getting out of my bed, I padded over to the window, my fluffy socks slipping a little on the varnished wooden floor. It was raining again. It had been for a couple of days, ranging from light drizzle to thunder and lightning. I loved the rain. I hated to think that I might not see it for much longer…second degree manslaughter could put me in juvenile detention moving onto jail for six years. Six years, and if I went into a mental hospital, even longer. I didn't question that I deserved it, but I was still scared to hell about going to prison if the psych evaluation and trial put me there. I'd only turned sixteen a couple of weeks ago. I sat down on the chair next to the square of delicate glass, hugging myself, my stomach in a highwayman's hitch and my head full of cotton wool. What was happening to me? No-one could throw anything that hard. No-one. Let alone me, with my addiction to candy, tiny frame and tendency to spend my weekends on the couch when baseball season was over. Added to the hallucinations…I shook my head. People with faces like something out of the monster chapters of a mythology textbook. I was going insane. Had to be.

I stood up, heading to the bathroom, my gait sluggish and weak. I had some sleeping pills that I kept when I really needed to rest…I wouldn't make it through the next day if I didn't get some shuteye. The cabinet mirror reflected an exhausted little girl back at me-thick, honey blonde, shoulder-length hair with front bangs, ghostly pale skin, golden brown eyes with dark shadows beneath them. I was only five feet two inches and maybe ninety five pounds dripping wet-short for my age, and skinny with it. I couldn't gain weight if my life depended on it, which was no joke. The doctor said I could possibly have an overactive thyroid, but I was pretty sure I just had a fast metabolism. Don't get me wrong-anorexia was never a problem. I ate like a horse. But I remained as small and lean as ever. Kind of like the tough, tasteless steak you get specifically for stir fry.

Swallowing a pill with a gulp of tap water, I leaned back against the freezing tiled wall. The medication wouldn't kick in for another hour.


	2. Chapter One: Opening The Door

_Renée Jennings_

 _I was a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer only a couple of years in the business, sitting in a bar in Chicago, Illinois with some of my friends from the firm. It was November, 1992, and we'd just won a big case against a money-laundering crook by the name of Paul Robbins._

 _That bar, Jericho, was a nice place-real old, varnished wood, red leather stools, a shelf behind the bartender with brightly coloured glass bottles on it. It had character. Many people had sat in there with interesting, vivid stories to tell. I was laughing at some joke that someone made, when I noticed a guy sitting on the opposite side of the bar. Wow. He was cute with a capital 'C'...thick, swept back honey blond hair, proud features. And his eyes...like sunshine going through a good bottle of whiskey. He had a look about him, something like a self-assurance. A confidence. I couldn't help but feel wistful, but I was doing well in life. Fucking a random guy in a bar was not my style, I had too much to lose, to mess up. My last relationship had ended badly. I didn't want to get into anything and I had drilled it into myself that meaningless sex was a bad idea._

 _So I decided to nip the wistful thoughts in the bud and look away, but I looked back after a few moments to see those golden brown irises on me. God, he was gorgeous. Our eyes locked, and the only thing more impossible than continuing to stare was not continuing to stare. But I had to, and I did, turning back to my best friend at the time, Julie. 'What's the rule about guys in bars, Renée?' I thought to myself. 'You can't afford to do anything stupid.'*_

" _So, Mark asked me out last week. I said maybe, because I'm not so sure that I like him, but I'm also not so sure that I don't. " I was barely paying attention to her. I kept thinking about the guy across the bar, the handsome man that seemed as far removed from any man I had ever met as a lion is from a cockroach. I just replied with the standard answer I used when Julie talked about her many conquests or would be conquests._

" _Yeah. No, I get it. Maybe get to know him a little first?" I tucked my short, bobbed hair behind my left ear, wondering if he was still looking. "He seems nice. " Mark was the single most pompous, condescending asshole I had ever met, but Julie would figure that out within two dates and drop him like a red hot coal. There'd never been any flies on that woman. Stunningly attractive, sharp, intelligent, with a heart of gold and a wicked sense of humour. She played the game and she played it with finesse. Why the beautiful man across from us had been looking at_ _ **me**_ _when Jules was around was pretty perplexing. I was passably pretty-short dark hair, hazel eyes, good bone structure. I went to the gym twice a week. But I couldn't even hold a match to Julie._

" _Mm. I'm going to go to the bathroom, okay? I'll be right back. " She gave me a quick wink and got up, turning a few heads in her tight red pencil skirt and silky black blouse. I was left alone to stare into my wine glass and wait for her return, fiddling with my ring. A gift from my mother when I graduated Harvard, the band was silver and set with tiny sapphires in the shape of a cluster of three forget-me-nots. Let it never be said that Erica May Lawrence didn't have good taste. I was twirling it around my finger when the man across the bar slid into Julie's empty chair opposite me._

" _Good evening," he purred, his voice as smooth and rich as melting butter. It sent a warm tingle all the way down my spine, and I smiled back, hoping upon hope that my makeup was still in place. It was the cheap crap from the nether regions of my local drugstore and it had a history of smudging and running in all the wrong places at all the wrong times._

" _Hello," I greeted, crossing my ankles and turning to face him properly. I'd been taught early on to look people in the eyes and face them when they spoke to you. He held his hand out to me, a surprisingly attractive smirk playing on the edges of his lips._

" _Gabriel." Of course this golden man had a name like Gabriel. I grasped his hand in mine to shake it. The skin was as soft as magnolia petals, his grip firm and warm. I held on maybe a moment or two longer than was really necessary. They always talked about it in the movies, that instant attraction, love at first sight, and I'd believed it was horse shit until this man. I could fall so deeply in love with him that I'd never see the light of day again._

" _Interesting name. I'm Renée." Renée. My father's choice, after his late grandmother. I'd never liked it, and in comparison to a name like Gabriel, it seemed dull as dishwater. Chicago in the nineties was going through a French phase of baby names. Renée Marie Jennings. Any hope of impressing him with originality was dead before it lived. "Are you having a good night? "_

" _I am. Could be better…" That inexplicably sexy smirk widened as he let his eyes graze over me. I kept my back straight, one arm casually on the bar counter. I wasn't the kind to blush and giggle on the outside even when I was doing exactly that on the inside. "And how about you? Girl's night out, or something?"_

" _Just out with a couple of work friends, that's all." I let the corner of my mouth curve upwards, subtly adjusting the collar of my sleek grey jacket. I wanted this man to find me alluring. "What about you, Gabriel?" I let the name linger on my lips. I could get used to it being there. It played so beautifully on my tongue. "Out with your girlfriend? "_

 _He quirked a honey coloured eyebrow, his smirk becoming an amused smile. "Interested?" he joked, a butterscotch chuckle rumbling in his throat as he motioned to the bartender to bring him another drink. "No, actually. I'm here alone. Need to get away." Away? My interest was piqued. I'd always been pretty nosy._

" _Away from what?" I leaned back, trying to get comfortable. My knee length black dress was tight and I was looking forward to peeling it off and tugging on my pyjamas later. It shifted, and I could feel it exposing more of my cleavage. Not entirely a bad thing. At his pause, I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to stop sticking my nose into other peoples' business outside of work. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. "_

 _He tossed his drink back, motioned for another. Touchy subject. He was still sitting, still interested, though. "Just brothers being typical assholes. Family feud that's lasted…a very long time. "_

 _I nodded. "Can't relate, I'm afraid. I'm an only child. Sorry to hear it, though."_

" _Be thankful." He took his new drink, staring into the bottom of the glass for a moment before taking a musing sip. " My one brother is a complete bag of dicks and the other one thinks he's God. Then my other brothers are taking sides. Dinner's an interesting event." I chuckled quietly. Attractive, intelligent_ _ **and**_ _funny. A hard combination to achieve, or so it seemed with the men I'd met._

" _Sounds like it. I deal with a lot of this. I'm a lawyer." I finished the glass of wine I'd been nursing all night. His mouth quirked up again in that wonderful crooked smile._

" _A lawyer? Wow; beautiful and smart," he smirked, winking at me. I had to struggle not to blush. Getting a compliment from someone like him couldn't help but make me glow with pleasure. "So, what about you? A pretty woman like you has to have a boyfriend-a husband? " I kept a straight face._

" _No, I'm currently unattached. I haven't had much time for romance. Law tends to keep you busy." Too true. But I was willing to make an exception for him._

" _That's got to make the nights lonely." His finger grazed my hand, and a delicious shiver ran down my spine._

 _ **TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB**_

 _Less than an hour later, I was on top of him, naked and covered in sweat. And yeah, while I had been having quite the dry spell, I had something that we needed. Reaching over to my nightstand, I opened a drawer. "Condom," I breathed, fumbling for the box. Gabriel grabbed my wrist gently, shaking his head._

" _It's fine. I'm clean," he gasped, pulling me down to kiss him again. We'll just say I promptly forgot about the condom and let him roll us over. His kisses were magic, sinfully sweet. His mouth tasted like whiskey and chocolate, which isn't a bad combination, I'm telling you. That skilled mouth sadly left mine, but soon began to press light, seductive pecks up my body. I moaned low in my throat. I hadn't known sex could be like this._

" _I'll make you feel good." His voice was barely a whisper as he settled himself into position, his eyes boring into mine, asking silent permission for what we were about to do. I needed him at that point. It wasn't a case of want anymore. I_ _ **needed**_ _him._

" _Please, Gabriel. .."_

" _I've got you." He slowly pushed himself inside me, a deep groan slipping from his lips. I wrapped my legs around his waist, breathing in sharply. How could anything feel better? How could anyone else_ _ **be**_ _better? I tilted my head, his intoxicating taste playing on my lips as he kissed me hungrily. "Fuck!" he hissed, staying still, giving me time I needed to adjust to the feeling of him inside me. I wriggled my hips, letting him know I was fine, and he pulled back and started a slow, deep pace. He hit every sweet spot it was possible to hit, gently circling his hips, and I opened my legs wider. I wanted all of him, and it was such a foreign concept to me that I was almost frightened amid the bliss. But I wasn't going to waste this night._

 _ **TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB TTTB**_

It wasn't like I was naïve. You could never claim that, not growing up with my family. Only child, big-shot Daddy, no-bullshit Mom. I was never allowed to fuck up. My entire life was planned out before I was even born. Valedictorian graduate in high school, Harvard, law degree, follow in Dad's footsteps. And like the obedient thing I was back then I did exactly as I was told, just waiting for my freedom to come. The only day I was happier than the day I moved out and into my own apartment was a scorching July day nine months after that night at the bar, when I gave birth to my daughter.

My Ayla. As much as I fucked up having her in the eyes of my white-collar family, I loved her more than life itself. The second I held her in my arms I was completely gone on her. Tufty blonde hair, big golden brown eyes just like her father's. I knew when she grew up, she'd be able to wrap anyone around her little finger, even me. She had that brightness about her that same way Gabriel did, and as she got older, charisma was her middle name. I sometimes wished that he hadn't left while I slept that night. Wished that maybe he'd have stuck around and seen her grow. She looked so much like him. She _was_ so much like him. But wishes wouldn't get me anywhere, and besides, the past sixteen years had been the best I'd had. Not easy, but Ayla had shouldered the load with me as soon as she got old enough.

And now it looked like I was going to lose her.

Ayla was sarcastic, a real little smartass at times, not afraid to answer back or stand up for herself and other people, not caring who she was standing up _**to**_. Christ, did that cause problems at school. She fell out with her friends sometimes, a few kids weren't too enthusiastic about her presence, but that was _normal_. It happened to most if not all people her age. Killing another girl with a _basketball_ was another matter entirely.

She was spending most of her time shut in her room now. It had been two days since Labour Day weekend and since coming home from the police station she'd barely eaten or slept. Understandable. I just missed my daughter. I was still trying to wrap my mind around what had happened but I knew she'd never hurt anyone like that on purpose. Yet here she was, under house arrest, awaiting evaluation and trial with a fucking _ankle tag_.

I pushed all these thoughts out of my head. I was going to have to do a lot of smoothing over at work today. Pulling my silvering dark brown hair back into a French twist, I dusted off my grey linen pantsuit and checked my appearance. All I could hope now was that I could carry my determined 'don't fuck with me' demeanour all day.

Couldn't be too hard. I was a lawyer after all.

Picking up my bag, I sneaked a quick look into Ayla's bedroom. She was sound asleep. I'd heard her moving around the night before. She'd probably taken something. Walking carefully on the creaky floorboards, not wanting to wake her, I reached the bed and leaned down to kiss her temple. "I love you," I whispered into her hair. "More than anyone else in the world."

 _Ayla Jennings_

I woke up around noon to the sound of someone knocking the front door. I was allowed to answer the door, but step a foot out of it and the cops would come faster than I could yell, 'My bad!' Mom had already gone to work, anyway, so no one else was going to do it. Gotta say, it was NOT a pleasant or fun way to wake up from an all-consuming, dreamless sleep. It was like having cold water thrown over me.

Tucking my MP3 player into the pocket of my pyjamas and running my fingers through my tangled hair, I ventured outside and glanced through the peephole. Two men in suits? Okay…they looked kind of FBI-ish, and as much trouble as I was in, I didn't think it wold be taken that far. I gulped. To open the door or not to open the door? In the end I settled for the former.

One was taller than the other, and both were dressed in spotless black suits. Brown hair. One had the most impossibly green eyes I'd ever seen on an actual human being that wasn't a Harry Potter fanart, the other kind of hazel. Like Mom's. The latter's hair was longer, reaching a little way above his shoulders. Okay. As much as they were probably going to interrogate me, they were hot. I'm talking insanely hot. The kind of hot boys my age tried and failed miserably to achieve with hair gel. Square jaws, strong features, amazing cheekbones. Wow.

"Ayla Jennings?" the green-eyed one asked. Ooh. His voice. I couldn't pinpoint where he was from but it was deep and gorgeous. I nodded slowly. "Are your parents here?"

"No…my Mom's at work. Can I help you?"

"I'm Agent Bonham, this is Agent Marley. We, ah, we're not actually meant to question you without a parent or legal guardian present-"

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. My lack of sleep was getting to me. "You want to, judging from your tone. Come in. The weather's crappy." Turning away, I headed toward the kitchen, hearing one of them shut the door. "Do you want coffee?"


End file.
